Resident Evil  Bittersweet
by CaptainSkittlez
Summary: Follow a group of highschool students who are desperate to escape the horrors of Racoon City after their terror at a heavy metal concert. As time ticks away, will the intrepid group ever make it out alive? Rating set to change in later chapters.
1. Prologue

**Prologue;; Shadows**

**24****th**** September, 1999**

The first indication of things going right for the lazy, lank haired college student was the second hand that was clicking away towards the twelve. His eyes were unfocused, his body lounged back in the chair and his mind on things that did not include the higher level resit for Religious, Philosophical and Moral Studies at Racoon University. The teacher, a middle aged, slightly balding bespectacled man called Peter Jenkins, was normally the science teacher, specialising in biochemistry. Today, he was the stand in for Professor Dean Watt, who had come down with an illness after his exotic trip to – you guessed it – the Arkly Forest. Mr. Watt wasn't the adventurous type; he normally stayed in his classroom and sent students to get stock refills rather than do it himself. He had gone up to a cabin in the Arkly Forest with his friends and had come down early, complaining that a rabid dog had bitten him.

The lank haired student watched the clock with earnest as the second hand tittered by twelve and kept going. His mouth hung open and he stared in out raged at the time-keeping appliance and swore loudly, his highly noticeable British accent giving sway to a "Oh, fuck this for a game of cards," before his hand slapped to his mouth and he ducked his head. Jenkins sighed lightly as he closed the book in front of him and looked up at the second row, staring right at him. He tried to ease his five foot ten frame of one hundred and eighty pounds into the shadows to ill effect and Jenkins got out a – "Chapman, see me after class," – before the noisy, and usually welcomed, sound of the school bell cut over his voice.

Over the din he managed to shout out the Fall break homework exercise before he slumped back into Watt's chair and watched the students pack and file out excitably. Michael Chapman remained seated, playing with a silver pen and staring gloomily at his books. He slowly packed them away, stuffed them into his duffle bag and ruffled his shaggy brown locks. Beside him was his best friend Alan Stagg, who patted his shoulder sympathetically and said, "I'll meet you outside, bro." Stagg got up and snatched up his bag, scratching his black hair lightly as he waited for two giggling female students to vacate their desks and squeezed outside. Michael got to his feet and swung his bag over his shoulder. He stepped towards the desk and stood before it, his legs together and his arms straight by his sides. He wasn't hunched over or slouching, which Jenkins was unused to with his own students.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" He asked with a tone that mixed respect, boredom and exasperation, as he raised his blue eyes to meet Peter's green ones. Peter nodded and finished packing away his things, tidying the desk up before he got to his feet.

"I don't condone that language," he said slowly, "but considering it's the last day of school, and your, uh, situation, I'm willing to let it slip." Jenkins hoped this would brighten the mood of the English student, but his face screwed up and his manner changed. He kept that army stance up though, which just made Jenkins slightly more tired of the school.

"I don't need any special treatment, sir. My father died, not me," he said coolly, trying to hide the rage below his face. Jenkins nodded and opened a draw, removing a white sheet of paper, with another typed sheet stapled in the top right hand corner. It was just a strip, bearing the capital sans serif typed font 'I will not swear in class' and Michael took it with a nod. "A hundred I take it?"

Jenkins nodded and waved the young Brit away, who stuffed the paper into his bag and slipped out the class, waving down Alan who was engaged in a conversation with the wild haired Aaron and the dark eyed Stuart. Aaron and Stuart were best friends, but no one really understood why. Aaron was the captain of the school's soccer team, he was smart, popular and easy going. He had amazing physique that most guys would kill for, and a thick mane of shaggy but perfectly conditioned black hair that most girls would die for. On the other hand, Stuart was an orphan from Wisconsin who didn't get on with anyone, and that included the teachers. He kept a close group of friends, and spent most of his time thinking up ridiculous conspiracy theories to amuse those friends with. He was slim, tall and just a little pale, his face honed and his eyes darker than the others. Aaron swore that they looked black most days.

Michael grinned as he slid between his friends and poked Aaron in the stomach as he took in a breath to continue with whatever rant it was he was going off on. Aaron loved to rant. He would make an argument out of anything, from the current political system to the grass being green. He doubled over and punched Michael back, hitting him square on the tricep, before all four students scurried out of the university.

Aaron stood at the top of the stairs and took in a deep breath, leaning back and stretching out his arms. Mimicking Michael from before, Stuart leaned in and poked Aaron hard in the stomach causing the soccer captain to almost fall from his perch. He caught Stuart fleeing down the steps and with a great cry of "FIEND!" set after him, scaring away a group of girls, a flock of pigeons and a very disturbed ally cat. Michael leaned against the gates and watched Stuart being chased by Aaron all around, darting between cars and running past people who were getting into cars, or heading towards the gates. Alan looked over at his friend and grinned.

"So, how are things going with Jenna?" Alan was a normally relaxed easy going kinda guy, but the minute one of his friends got involved with a girl – or a guy in some suspected cases of Stuart's – he was all over the scene like Sherlock Holmes on the Hound Of the Baskervilles. Michael shrugged lightly and scooped up a few pebbles from the ground, hoping them over a garbage can and splashing them into a puddle on it's over side.

"Beats me, she's not answered her phone," Michael mumbled back, his eyes fixed on the bin. Alan patted his arm sympathetically as Stuart ran by cackling somewhat evilly, Aaron following him raging with a huge mud stain on his pristine white muscle shirt and looked at his friends with a deep sigh.

"There's always Stuart," he said with a meaningful sigh. Michael turned his head around a little to look at Alan, an eyebrow raised as he tossed one of the smaller pebbles at his friend's nose. It missed its target and hit Alan's forehead, who wiped away an imaginary speck of dirt and shot Michael a look of distaste.

"Yeah, right," the Brit responded, "I'd rather go for the creepy Chinese girl," he said with a pout, thinking about how cold the girl had been to him in the library. He had told Alan that she was vampire and needed to be fed garlic, but Alan just slapped him upside the head and pushed him into the English class, muttering about his friends 'idiot thoughts'.

"I'm pretty sure she's Japanese, actually. Suzuki… isn't that the name of some car company or something?" Alan questioned, looking upwards at the light sky. Michael shot him a degrading look and punched his arm playfully, nearly knocking the slimmer man off his feet.

"Only the greatest in sport motorcycling," he smirked back with a grin on his face, "Man, I really wanna get a hold of the GSX down at Ben's garage. I wonder if he's selling it?" Michael grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder again, Alan copying him as the two headed through the gate, waving farewell to Aaron and Stuart as the two playful students got onto the waiting bus. Alan and Michael walked along the paved sidewalks, their respective heads bobbing along as Alan hummed something under his breath.

Alan was part of a rising band that had started at the University and was basically led by Alan and the snappy Haylee Lancaster, who fancied herself as a bit of a biker chic. To be honest, that was the only reason Michael had even bothered finding out her name. Any girl that knew a thing about bikes, drove them and took care of them was basically his idea of the dream woman. Of course that fact that she was a insufferable man-hater made things hard. Michael constantly got into argument with her which normally resulted in him storming off and taking his rage out on the bullet ridden practice dummies in their back yard.

Michael had been a normal kid up until a few years ago. He was of mixed British origins; his father was an Englishman and a soldier, and his mother was an Irish protestant. They had divorced because Michael's mother couldn't handle her husband being away for so long. They had moved to Ireland when Michael was still only a kid and he had grown up in Ireland.

Growing up in Ireland in the eighties wasn't the safest place that was for sure. So the young Michael quickly learned to look out for himself. He was a fighter, be it bare fist or with a weapon and he was fuelled mostly by a desire to get away from Ireland. In the early nineties, he got his wish. He was only around thirteen or so when his mum was killed, a car bomb exploded and she was dead on the scene. It was then that the hulking John Chapman picked him up and took him to Scotland, where he was based.

There, things improved. From thirteen to eighteen, over a space of five years he had changed so much. He got away from the constant fighting and growing up in Glasgow had an almost positive impact on him. He got into a genre of music his dad called 'mullet rock' and began worshiping the greats like Hendrix and Bonham, being a huge fan of both Jimi and Led Zeppelin.

His time in Scotland was better spent than that in Ireland, and he went to gig's up and down the country, getting more and more involved in heavy metal, growing out his hair and playing drums. It was when his dad got moved to Racoon City that things started to get complicated. Michael was growing tired of constantly being moved about and in less than a month of being in Racoon, he moved in with his almost instantly formed college buddy Alan Stagg and the two were renting out some apartment above Kendo's gunshop. He was staying put, he had told his father, and no one was ever moving him again.

"Hello!? Earth to Tommy?" Michael snapped his eyes away from the sidewalk and looked up at his friend, only breaking his thoughts at the nickname Alan had used. 'Tommy Atkins' and 'Johnny Doughboy' were the nicknames the two used for one another, which were the generic names of the British and American soldiers respectively. Tommy and Johnny were stupid nicknames, but for some odd reason they stuck in the minds of the young adults.

"Huh? Oh, right, we're here," Michael responded with a sigh. Alan nodded and pushed open the front door to Kendo's gunshop, waving to Robert Kendo as they walked in. Normally, Rob wouldn't let two kids stay in the apartment above his shop, but Alan was family and he vouched for Michael. Rob's brother, Joe, was Alan's brother-in-law, and that basically made Alan family in the wonderful world of the Kendo's.

The two teens stepped across the heaps of mouldy old gun magazines and Rob let them past the counter. The old side door outback was rusted shut, but he was going to take a blowtorch to it soon and just have the whole thing replaced. It was better than interrupting customers when the two came in. Although, for once they had shown up when no one was in.

As the two climbed the stairs chattering aimlessly about the goings on of the school, Rob snapped his fingers and yelled out for Michael. He leaned up between the balusters and handed the kid a white envelope, as well as a large brown-wrapped parcel. Michael took them with a hint of surprise on his face and he and Alan departed to their shared room.

As the two sat down on the bed, Alan ripped open the white envelope and stuffed the letter into Michael's hands, who read over it, frowned, read over it again and dropped it onto the bed. Without missing a beat Alan lifted it and inspected it.

_Dear Mister Chapman,_

_We have reason to believe that your father's will was lost with his personal belongings over-seas. Due to this course of action, all of his belongings will pass automatically for his next of kin as indicated on his personal file. This person is you. You will receive the money that he had in his bank account, as well as the life insurance he took out. His assets are currently frozen and will be transferred into your own bank account at Raccoon City Bank. His personal effects that survived the crash are included in the parcel. _

_Colonel Roy Mustang,_

_101__st__ Parachute Division_

Alan looked up to tell Michael to open the box but he already was. He ripped off the brown parcel tape and paused for a moment before pulling open the box. Inside was a variety of things, some from the crash and others from his locker. Michael's fingers first found the silver, slightly marred, dogtags with his father's name, division and other details stamped onto them. Instantly he pulled them around his neck and kissed them lightly, dropping his head into a box. Alan remained respectfully quiet, looking at the dogtags hanging next to his friends silver crucifix.

Then he was off again, searching through the other belongings. This included a set of keys for his dad's old '67 Chevy Impala and a black wallet, with thirty dollars and sixty cents, as well as a single French Frank, a 30 Deutschmark and a fifty pence piece. There was also an old photograph of a younger John and Leslie, holding onto a little baby boy in blue. On the back of the picture was scrawled _'John, Leslie and baby Micheal, 1981'_.

Alan tensed for a moment. Normally when someone used Micheal's Polish grandfather's name instead of the English version of the name, he would get angry and usually rude. He didn't like the Polish version of Michael, and normally let people off for calling him the English version of the name, but he was best suited when people referred to him as Tommy, Chapman or just Chap. That was another inside joke and Alan and his. He was partly called Chap for the British use of the word and partly because he once wore only a pair of tight black leather chaps and a black cowboy hat to a school dance and did the mamba with the school's nurse on the day before her retirement.

After more sifting through the box they found an iconic badge, the St. Andrews Cross and the St. George's cross flags, the respective flags of Scotland and England, crossed over and an army patch of his battalion, the 22nd Special Air Service Regiment. At the very bottom of the box, under various letters to and from home, there was an old, fully functioning Colt Peacemaker. Alan let out an exasperated sigh and wondered how much Kendo would pay for that gun.

He watched his friend, almost religiously, flick open the swing out cylinder and check the crane. He ran his thumb along it and sighed almost in delight. It was in damn near perfect condition. He also noted that the gun had been extended to accept eight rounds instead of the usual six. Flicking it closed he replaced it in the box, not touching the bullets inside. He then stuffed the box under his bed and pushed a finger to his lips.

"Don't tell Rob. He'd probably kill me during the night for it," he joked, making Alan snicker lightly. Alan looked over at the clock and sighed, pushing himself off of Michael's bed, wandering over to his own, slumping down on it and looking over at his friend. He seemed to have cheered up, and Alan let a small smile grace his own lips for that fact.

Michael was great fun and all but when he got into a mood he always brought Alan down with him. He picked up the phone and dialled in the number for their favourite pizza joint, and the two turned on the T.V. After getting no answer to the pizza place, Alan reached under his bed and produced a packet of potato chips, tossing them over at Michael and striking him in the head, as he pulled out one for himself. Smirking at his friend's reaction he turned up to look at the news and noted that the first big match of the season was on tomorrow, right here in Racoon.

Looks like the night was gonna be a fun one.

_A/N: I apologize for the randomness of this chapter. It does jump a bit, from the University to the shop and everything, things are explained as well as I like, but it's just the prologue, set to introduce two of our main characters. The name might give you some troubles – Micheal is the English form of the Polish name Mikhail. Considering Mikhail Victor is one of the UBCS members in Biohazard 3, I decided to revert to the English spelling of the name. _

_Yeah, the Tommy thing is actually a joke I share with a friend of mine, but that's beside the point. Tommy was the name of that the German's shouted across No Man's Land during the First World War to get the attention of a random British solider. 'Johnny Doughboy' was a term for the American soldiers during the same war, though it's been used since the Mexican-American War of 1846. The colt has no real influence on the story, nor will John Chapman after this. It's merely a way to arm at least one of the characters for their trip to Racoon Mall, where the length of this story will take place, perhaps starting about four chapters in. _

_The only other point of interest I could add to this will be that the main characters of the story – Michael, Alan and Aaron – are going to the gig for a heavy metal band called Last Man Standing and the fic will run along the same time line. If you've not read the fic by the same name, by the talented Escape The Shadows, I suggest you drop what you're doing right now, and do so. Seriously, even if you're about to save the world, or destroy depending on your dress sense, go ahead and read it. It's deep, inspiring and really awesome. _

_Well, that about wraps it up for my first author notes. But since I love clichés a lot, I'll say please leave a review, just to see if you guys'll actually do me any favours :P_

_P.S; I'm not great on American terminology, being British, so I should warn you some things I come away with may confuse those of you who aren't British. _

_For one thing, the whole Mom Vs. Mum thing. Well, Mom sounds like a plastic woman from a cheap 1950's ad, so it will be typed as Mum. Or occasionally mother. _

_Pants vs. trousers. Trousers are what you guys refer to as pants, and to us, pants are underpants, or underwear for a guy. _

_Umm. That's it I think. Yeah, so just clearing that up to prevent any co_nfusion.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One; Great Gig In The Sty**

**25****th**** September, 1999**

Michael groaned and rolled out of bed, rubbing at his tired, red rimmed eyes and swinging his feet out of the covers, resting them down on the hard-wood floor of the bedroom. He coughed a little, trying to free his mouth of that horrible dry taste you get from a night of singing – well, technically screaming – and eating potato chips until you felt ill, and then eating some more. Loaded up on diet Pepsi and fast food, the two university students had sat up all night with the radio on full blast. This was one of many benefits that came from living above a gunshop. For one, there were absolutely no neighbours.

The houses either side of them were offices, technically and no one lived in them. Beside of those were a clothing shop that's upstairs had been transformed into another level and a music store called MUSIC JUNKIE, which was basically the place that Michael and Alan belonged when they were bored. MUSIC JUNKIE was owned by a guy Alan had known since high school, although to this day Michael had never met him. He sported green hair, and that was all Michael knew.

It was also the place Michael and Alan would be heading to later that day. There was one very good reason for this, and that was Last Man Standing. Three words that shaped the future of the day for both young men. Last Man Standing were 'awesomeness personified' in the words of Michael, and were a heavy metal band, that for some reason chose Racoon City to finish up their state-wide tour. Excitably, Alan had burst into the mall when he heard it and had almost skull dragged Aaron and Michael all the way to the music store, where Mr. Green-Hair was keeping back tickets for Alan. They had scrambled for their wallets so fast it was as if he was offering them immortality for only $17.50 each.

And now, after four weeks of waiting, the time had finally come. It was today, Michael realised suddenly, as he got out of bed and stumbling along the corridor, out of the bedroom he and Alan shared and to the small store room that housed all their 'crap', as Robert called it.

Michael opened the door and flicked on the light switch, bending down and raking through a few boxes to pull out a small black, steel safety box. He unlocked it with a key from around his neck and looked at the contents, stroking them gently as a Crusader might stroke the Holy Grail.

He pulled the two gig tickets from the black box and stared at them with unhidden excitement in his eyes. Footsteps on the stairs made him turn as he saw Alan coming upstairs with a delicious smelling unhealthy breakfast in his hands, in only his t-shirt and jeans. Michael guessed the temperature must have risen since the previous day, and smiled at his friend.

"Dude," Alan said, stopping on the stairs, and flashing his best friend a grin, "You're not jerking off to those tickets are you?"

"Ha. Ha," Michael replied sarcastically, punctuating each 'Ha' with a full stop and capital 'H' before closing and locking box, stuffing it under his arm and snatching breakfast from Alan's hands. Both teens walked into the bedroom again and Alan sat on his own bed this time, laying out his double cheese burger and fries before him, placing his strawberry shake on the bedside table and dropping his wallet next to it. Michael opened his plain burger and super-sized fries and put his diet Pepsi in the crook of his leg, wincing for a moment as the ice-cold cup pressed against his bare skin. He wiped his hands on his soccer shorts and put the black case on his beside table, before he started on his burger.

Alan had already started tearing into his breakfast, and was watching the black box with Michael. It was their future right now. Everything depending on the gig that night and they had already planned to meet up with Aaron and his friends that evening at the mall, so they could all arrive together and barge their way to the front for some decent standing positions. It was Alan's first real gig, because before this he had only been to a few gigs that school bands had done, and of course, playing bass on stage for his own aspiring band.

Michael on the other hand was adding Last Man Standing to the long gig roster he had accumulated since Scotland. He had been to gigs all over the UK, most of which had cost his dad and arm and a leg to have him sent to. He had only been in Raccoon three years but even still, he had been to four concerts across the Mid-West, including a Zeppelin concert in Michigan and had travelled almost a hundred miles to get his hands on an early copy of the album 'The Jester Race' by one of his favourite bands, In Flames. On top of this, a newly formed band had come to his attention called System of a Down, and he somehow got his hands on an early untitled Demo tape by the band that was being handed out by their street team. In all, the year had been one of his best for music and he had taken to the states with great charm.

Although, it seemed while music had been one of the best things to happen to him, girls were one of the worst. He had several disappointing relationships with different girls, which all ended due to different reasons. He had been incredibly unlucky with his choice in woman, and it was thought that Jenna might be the girl to change that. She was the girl he sat next to in RMPS and they had been paired together one or twice in class and had helped one another catch up when they were off school or missed classes. Eventually they started meeting up outside school and it was only a matter of time before they started dating.

At this point, Alan had started to get a bit worried because his best friend was spending less and less time with him. He had mentioned it to Aaron who had proceeded to football tackle Michael to the ground and drench his face in water. This had resulted in Michael chasing him around the football pitch cackling like a mad man and throwing stuff at Aaron. Alan had watched the scene in humour and in the end Michael had apologized for ignoring his friend. That was right around the time they got tickets for the gig, in fact.

"Huh?" Alan said as Michael brought him out of his day dream by tossing a fry at his face. "What? Oh, right. Err, yeah, I guess we could head over to the store. Dave said he'd get them to sign a couple of albums for us anyway." Michael frowned at his friend and tutted disrespectively. Alan tossed the fry back, which had he unfortunate fate to land in Michael's diet Pepsi. Rather than toss the soggy fry in the garbage can, Michael lifted it high above his head and dropping it into his mouth, munching in noisily and forcing Alan to make a face of disgust. "You're an animal," he commented dryly.

"Never waste," Michael grinned back, before dunking a few more fries in his Pepsi. Alan tossed his remaining fries over to his friend, who dropped the soggy ones in the bin and cackled madly and proceeded to finish off both his and his friends fries, glad his plan had worked. "Anyway, like I was saying;," Michael some how managed between mouthfuls of fries, "I'm not passing up his opportunity, man. I missed the opportunity to meet Jimmy Page at that concert in Michigan and there's no way I'm gonna miss meeting Hunter at this signing."

"Which one?" Alan shot back with a grin, knowing that both brothers were playing in the band. Josh Hunter though, was the one he knew his friend meant. Being a drummer himself he held a massive amount of respect for the fellow metal head and he would give almost anything to shake hands with him. Almost.

"Both of them," Michael said with a grin, sending a fry flying Alan's way, who caught it and stuffed it his mouth.

The two sat in silence with Alan sipping his shake and watching Michael devour his fries while occasionally bursting into a display of air-drumming, thrashing his arms around as if he were on stage. Alan knew his friend was just letting out his excitement for the coming gig just seeing the excitement radiated by his friend made him equally excited. Alan suddenly looked up at Michael.

"So, why didn't you see Jimmy at the concert?" and Michael looked up at his friends, his arms freezing in mid air as he dropped them down and smirked at his friend. He had never actually told Alan about the incident, because that was during the icy period the two of them had when Michael had bailed out on paying the rent for almost a month due to saving up for the gig.

"Because some idiot got up on the stage and tried to stick him," he replied in an off handed manner, sipping his Pepsi. Alan's eyes shot wide open as he looked at his friends, drawing his eye brows so high up his forehead that they almost merged with his hair line.

"Seriously?"

"Hell yeah, got right up close too. Tackled by a couple of security guards. You can always rely on those beef buckets to save the day," he grinned and Alan chuckled lightly.

The two sat in a brief silence in which Michael acted out more vicious air-drummings and Alan watched him in amusement. Then he looked over at the clock and swore gently. Michael looked up at him and saw him staring at the clock, so he glanced over at his own and swore, as he spotted it too. Michael got out of bed, discarding his empty breakfast wrappings and tossing the black case to Alan, who set about opening it with the key that dangled about his neck.

Michael pulled on a pair of jeans, and his baggy Last Man Standing shirt, tying his long hair back into a ponytail and pulled on his shoes. Alan had already got the tickets and pocketed them, and was on the hallway landing, with Michael following his short-haired friend half-way downstairs, before he stopped. "Shit," he murmured quietly, and told Alan to go on ahead and he'd meet him outside.

Alan headed down and darted past Robert bearing him a farewell as he got outside. A few minutes later Michael joined him, and the two stood staring at each other for a moment. "What?" Michael asked and Alan grinned as if confused and pointed back towards the shop.

"What did you forget?" He asked and Michael grinned, holding up the two necklaces he had grabbed. The first was the silver-white cross and the other was the dogtags he had gotten in the parcel the night before. Alan grinned and then checked his watch, before he swore again.

Both teens shot down the street to MUSIC JUNKIE, skidding to a halt just outside the door. They peered inside and took in the small crowd that filled the store with a slight hint of relief. They were a little late and a lot of people had already left the store. But to their enormous relief, the band was still there, seated behind a little table.

The two teens opened the door and stepped inside, surprised at the crowd. They had expected a lot of guys and girls similar to them, in baggy jeans and baggy shirts, long hair, facial piercings and even a few with ludicrous dyes streaked through their hair all in their twenties or there abouts. They couldn't be further from the crowd before them.

Michael muttered something under his breath about try-hards and Alan snickered lightly, as a few young – what both young men thought were – boys turned around and glared at them. They didn't have anything against the other people in the store, but things were getting boring as they hung around the door with only the music genres that didn't interest them to look at, so they tried to amuse themselves.

Alan waved to Dave who was standing a side with a look of relief on his face, which they could tell was because the night was nearly at an end. He waved back and Alan procured from his jacket pocket the albums that both teens owned. Michael shot him a massive grin and took his own album. Although he was excited to meet a band he loved, he felt more than a little out of place. Even the guy that worked at the store was younger than he was.

In fact, the only people who weren't younger were the band and the parents of some of the kids who had come along. Michael felt uncomfortable surrounded by thirteen year old kids most of which he could tell had mostly jumped on the band wagon of the band's immense success, which disappointingly was the case with such a great band. He could bet that most the those kids could recite the lyrics well enough, but doubted if they actually understood them. There were a few kids amongst the group who Michael thought probably were real fans, and were just unfortunate enough to be caught up with the other type. No, the real fans would be at the gig that night.

As the crowds thinned, Michael watched Alan go up and get his album signed, shaking hands with the band members and letting them know he was expecting an awesome show and heading back over to where Michael was. Eventually everyone seemed to have left the shop, which left Michael as the last person. He handed his album to Josh first and received a powerful handshake from the drummer, his face breaking out into a grin as he complimented the man's awesome drumming skills and saluted the rest of band while he was at it. Then the two of them browsed the shop for a while, heading to the back aisles, where the heavy metal and rock music was located. They heard Last Man Standing exit the store and Dave poked his head around the corner to tell Alan that they had better be quick if they wanted to catch the show's opening.

But Michael and Alan had already decided that they were gonna miss the support act, Head Hunter, and grab a hold of the rest of the guys at the mall before they headed off to the concert. They had planned it so they'd catch the last song by Head Hunter and could settle in to listen to Last Man Standing. Dave just wandered off to deal with a customer who had come in looking for a Martha Stewart album, who gave an incredulous look to both Alan and Michael when they walked past humming the bass line and guitar solo for 'Internal Combustion' as they exited the shop for the sidewalk.

The outside was tinged with red as the two teens looking up at the setting sun and Michael slapped his hands together. They'd have to be fast if they wanted to get to the mall before Head Hunter took to the stage. They made their way quickly along the near-deserted streets, ignoring the silence and continuing to act as if nothing was wrong with the world. In truth, both were disturbed by the cannibalistic murders that had taken place all along the city's edges. They had also been made even more nervous by the disbanding of S.T.A.R.S the top-notch police force in the city. There were a lot of things both young men picked up on, in fact. The escape of the wanted felon Billy Coen, who had served with Michael's father years ago, the abandoning of the Elliptic Express, Umbrella's 5-Star train and the mysterious enforcing of the ten o'clock curfew. It was at least an hour until ten and the teens had made the trip to the mall in less than twenty minutes before.

As they headed along the sidewalk, Michael was talking about the gig and anything else that he wanted to. Alan listened with half an ear, dedicated the rest of his hearing and attention to what was going on around him. The thought of the grisly murders had set his mind on being as attentive as possible and he didn't want to be caught out by some psychotic murderer who fancied munching on him for a tasty snack.

As Alan and Michael headed along the road there came running footsteps. A lot of them, as if a large group was coming towards them post-haste. Alan froze and he dropped back a little, raising his fists up a little, but Michael grinned and peered over a car to see a group of seven heading in their direction. He spotted the wild hair, stout build and grinning face of Aaron at the front, seconds before the older man barrelled into him and sent him towards the floor. Alan let out a laugh of relief, laughing harder as Aaron started tickling Michael like crazy who laughed back and punched Aaron' arm to try and get him off. Alan's laughter was cut short as he too was smashed from his feet, this time by an excitable red-headed female, who poked his cheek and tickled him too. The rest of the group caught up and stood watching the scene with laughter in their eyes and smiles adorning their tired faces. They had run the rest of the distance to try and meet the other two half-way, expecting that they would arrive late anyway.

Aaron got off Michael and pulled his friend to his feet, whose face was flushed red from laughing so much. The red head also got off Alan and pulled the slimmer man to his feet, pushing him against a parked car with one hand and walking over to Michael, whose eyes widened when he saw her. "Been a long time, Chapman," she said with small smile on her face. "You been keeping up with your homework with out me?"

"Jen," Michael said in surprise, "Sure have. You never answered your cell," he pointed out with a half-smirk, and Aaron started laughing from over by the rest of the guys. Michael took in Jen's transformed look, wondering why she had dyed her hair as red as the mail-boxes of the London streets, and looked at Aaron's smirking face.

"I think she was fed up of you not paying her for all those," and he swayed his body, thrusting his belly out dramatically and wiggling his hips as he whispered, "Private lessons," in a deep, mock-sensual voice. Jen punched Aaron' arm and Michael and Alan shared a look that said 'he's going down in the pit' as they joined in laughing with the others.

"Hey," one of the taller guys from Aaron' party said, "We better get moving, if we wanna make it back in time." Aaron nodded and gestured to Alan and Michael in a bored kind of way, and turned to the rest of his friends.

"Guys, this is Michael and Alan, our metal-nut brothers from the west. Feel free to refer to them as Tommy and Johnny respectively, as they've stolen those nicknames from our brave forefather's who fought in the world wars. Geeks," he said, catching the attention of Michael and Alan who mock raised their fists at Aaron, "These are mah hommies from da east side," he said, waving his hands before him, making 'gangsta' gestures. His friends shot him a series of odd looks, confused at how much energy he wasted on being stupidly random.

"The blond is Phil, who is expecting a baby soon, as we can see," he said, slapping the near seven foot giant's huge stomach, who looked like he belonged at the gig as a bodyguard, "and the short guy beside him is his home boy visiting us from Canada, Stephen. But don't hold that against him, he's actually pretty cool," he said as the Canadian grinned and raised a hand to salute Michael and Alan.

The other three introductions went more or less the same way, with Aaron choosing the make at least derogatory comment about his friends, even though he thought none of it as being true. Despite his laid back attitude to his friends he actually cared about them a lot and would gladly have their back in any fight. There was a brunette who was around the same height and weight as Michael, and sported an identical shirt, but wore baggy bondage trousers, and wore his hair spiked up into a Mohawk who was introduced as the 'tree-hugging hippy David'. He also had his face pierced in several areas, though told them that he had traded in his usual chains and hoops for studs, just to minimalism injury at the gig. He pointed to a scar that ran down from the left side of his lip across his chin and told them it was from a lip-ring being torn out at an Iron Maiden concert. He was easily the oldest of the group though, at twenty seven.

The other two were a pair of blond twin girls that Aaron knew from Wisconsin. They looked almost identical, except one had her face covered with piercings similar to those of David and had a green stripe dyed through her hair. The other looked a lot plainer, similar to Alan and Michael but sported a thick series of pewter rings on her right hand, which were all seemingly linked together like knuckle-dusters. They each had symbols on them, which Michael recognized right away. They were the symbols of the fourth studio album of Led Zeppelin, the ZoSo symbol of Page, the Rune symbols of Jones and Bonham and Plant's symbol, an Egyptian Ma'at feather, encased in a circle. The girl, introduced as Megan – her sister being introduced as Paula – held the rings up when she caught Michael staring at them.

"Classic rock fan," Michael complimented, "I'm impressed." Megan grinned and hooked arms with Paula, the two heading to the front of the group to walk with Aaron and Alan, with Phil and Stephen filling the centre of the group and leaving David, Michael and Jenna to bring up the rear of the group.

For the most part, they walked on chattering aimlessly about random topics and thoughts, although David was listening to his MPMan, the familiar roar of Last Man Standing easily heard from the headphones, leaving Michael and Jenna in an uncomfortable silence. Michael turned towards her at last and managed a grin, before he said with a hint of surprise on his face, "Didn't expect you to come, to be honest."

"And miss this?" She shot back, staring at him in surprise, shaking her head slowly, "How little you know me, Michael…"

"Well, we've not spoken in a month. What happened?" he asked, his throat dry and his eyes trained on her.

"Things got complicated, let's put it that way. My life was in a shambles and I didn't want to drag you into it," she said, shrugged a little, and tossed a lock of red hair away from her eyes.

"I wouldn't have minded," Michael muttered under his breath, and she looked over at him, as he trotted along next to her, staring at the black Converses he wore. He turned his head back up to look at her, and she snapped her face to face frontward's, a smile reassuming its place on her red lips. "You never answered my calls," he repeated, looking at her for more answers.

"I've not been home in a while," she admitted. It was her turn for her face to fall and her head to droop down, as she looked down at her feet, trying to ignore the stabbing feeling in her stomach. She felt bad for abandoning him the way she did. She was surprised to hear from Aaron that he hadn't moved on yet.

"Where were you staying then?" He asked, quieter this time. He wasn't probing her for information, she could see that. He was actually genuinely worried about her, and she felt worse for that fact.

"My parents have a place downtown, I was staying there until things blew over. They've been out of the country for a while, working in Paris. Y'know, the new labs set up there?" Michael nodded, and she looked down at the ground again. "They kept calling to make sure I was okay, and I kept saying I was fine… We had an argument last night," she said at last and Michael nodded, to show that he was still listening. Jenna's parents worked for the mutli-billion company Umbrella Inc., they were both scientists who got transferred to the newly built Paris labs back in February. "Well, I called again today but I never got anyone. Not even their secretary. I think they're avoiding my calls." Michael nodded and gave a light sigh from between his lips.

"Probably. Maybe they just want to cool down so another argument doesn't break out," he suggested, and she nodded, her face picking up a little. Michael honestly didn't believe that was the case. He had gone off on one to both his parents before and they were always the ones to calm down first. It was an unconditional parental love thing. The truth was there was probably some kind of incident at the Paris labs and they were in lockdown, at best.

He didn't voice this thought, however. Instead he made to cheer her up a little more, but noting how great the night was going to be. "But hey, enough worrying about moody parents, eh? We're about to go see the most awesome show that Racoon City has ever witnessed." Jenna smirked and pushed herself into his side, wrapping a slender arm about his waist and nodding as she set her eyes on the back of David, who was now thrashing his arms wildly about his body in a similar fashion to what Michael had done earlier that day. Michael tensed at first, remember the feeling exactly. They had been in a similar position a month ago, walking down the same street, just on the opposite sidewalk, sharing a pizza from Fucci's pizza place.

He wrapped his arm about her shoulder, and she lay her head on his own shoulder, and they walked on now in a comfortable silence, listening to the slightly muted music from David's MPMan. Up ahead Alan had just finished telling a joke to the front of the group and they burst out laughing as he stuck both hands on his hips and grinned proudly. There was a slightly scuffle and Michael and Jenna peered around Stephen and Phil to see Alan on Aaron' back, laughing like a maniac and swinging on hand above his head like a cowboy on a bucking horse and Aaron running ahead of the group, Alan's legs tucked under his arms and Alan's right arm about his chest, just below his neck. The two were a little bit ahead and the rest of the group watched them, laughing a little at the casual manner they all shared.

As they turned the corner they say that the doors were still open and they all got ready to head in, David pocketing his MPMan as they all entered, handing over their tickets. Alan hung back and procured his ticket with Michael's, tearing them and apart and handing Michael his. He then handed his ticket to the punk-looking attendant, whose whole body was seemingly heavily tattooed. His arms and the area bout his neck were clearly covered in tats and his lip was pierced on the furthest left side.

His hair was bright orange and sat up in spikes, that gave him a hugely different look to the metal fans that were entering late. A few others were milling around, who obviously had a similar idea to the group that had just entered. Michael handed over his ticket and Jenna's, and the attendant tore them and handed them back to Michael, who pocketed them. "Enjoy the shows, dudes," the attendant said casually, his eyes drooped half closed. Michael nodded and he continued to stand their, oblivious to the world like some kind of ticket-machine.

As they walked up stairs, their tension mounted. This was it. They were about to go see Last Man Standing in concert, live, completely real. Michael and Alan grinned at one another as Aaron pushed open the doors and let out a cry of, "Where is all the white women at?" and headed towards the bar with Megan and Paula. Alan laughed at his friends comment, and a few other grins were on the faces of the drinking fans that were milling around the bar. Alan turned to Michael and Jenna, who were standing with David, Stephen and the huge Phil. Phil spoke for the first time, his deep Southern drawl surprising them.

"Ah say we jus' push our way ta the front and let it rip," he said and Alan smacked him on the shoulder with a huge grin, Stephen smirked widely and David looked excited, bouncing from one foot to the other. The four of them looked like they were about to charge into a pit of screaming lunatics, and technically they were. The only difference was they were actually _joining_ a pit of screaming lunatics.

"Alright," Michael said, nodding towards to stage, grinning widely as the tech crew were clearly mid setting up the instruments for the band. "They've not started yet." David clapped his hands together and grinned in Michael's direction, sizing him up like a baseball captain choosing his first team mate at a baseball match between friends.

"Wonder what they'll start with?" he asked in an off-handed manner. Phil looked thoughtful, but Stephen seemed tuned into the conversation a lot more than his hulking friend.

"Probably 'Internal Combustion'," he said surely, "It's a pretty energetic one, and perfect for opening up."

Michael nodded his approval and Alan wrapped an arm about the shorter kid's shoulders, giving him a noogie and messing up his short-cropped black hair as best he could. "You might not look like one of us, in your sensible shoes and that shirt, but damnit boy you think like us." Stephen grinned at the compliment and pushed Alan off him, surprising the bigger man with his strength. For a short kid, he was pretty strong. The crowd picked up the chant of 'Last Man Standing!' and the group chose this time to get to the front. David told them to meet him up ahead, because we wanted to go back and get a drink. It seemed that Aaron would be waiting at the back with Megan and Paula, so the rest of them set off without their most energetic member and pushed their way to the front with ease. No one wanted to argue with Phil, it seemed.

Michael looked up at the stage and as the band walked on, he let out a roar of approval with the rest of the crowd, pumping a fist into the air as Phil raised both of his, almost knocking out a few people around with the rocket-propelled fists, as the band came on stage. Up the front, there was a kind of disgusting smell that bothered the small group. None of them mentioned it to the other by it was clear that it bothered them all. Jenna covered her mouth and Alan scrunched up his nose.

As Zack ran across the front of part of the stage, Michael and Phil both raised their hands, high fiving him as he charged by in a seemingly unquenchable energetic jog that would have rivalled even Aaron'. These thoughts were cut from Michael's mind as he heard Zack yell into the microphone. He turned his face up and smirked widely.

"How is everybody doing?!"

_A/N: Well, there it is. The stage setter, the first chapter. This is basically the short introduction to the setting, the characters and the future of the fic. It's actually a little shorter than I was hoping for, but oh well. What do you guys think of the length?_

_Yeah, the second chapter will mostly centre on the gig itself. It's gonna form three different view points. The first will be from Michael's view as he watches the band and all the stuff happening. The second will be from Stephen's view point as he and Phil enter the Circle Mosh of DOOM. Hehe. And the final view point will be that of Aaron, Paula and Megan, who all wait to see Michael and others as they make their escape from the gig. If you've still not read Last Man Standing, I urge you again to read it, at the very least up until chapter 3, which is where the band stage this very show. I personally engage you to read all of it, because it's a most awesome piece of work. A thanks goes out to Escape The Shadows for allowing me to feature his wonderful creations in this fan fic from the views of their screaming, hordes of fans. _

_A note goes out to the name of this chapter. It's not a typo, no. It really does say, _Great Gig In the Sty_. This is basically a play on the Pink Floyd song name 'The Great Gig In the Sky' but because of the location of the gig, the putrid smell of blood, sweat, beer and, most recognizably, death, I felt sty was an apt description of it. Thus the name of this chapter came about._

_Yeesh, I went on forever. Sorry. Review if you have time! _

_See ya. _


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